


averted vision

by penowl



Series: astronomy lessons [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Like, M/M, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Remus Lupin, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, References to Insomnia, Remus Lupin has Anxiety, Remus Lupin probably has a lot of other things ngl, Unrequited Love, Werewolf Remus Lupin, as for the ptsd it's more of a, blink and you'll miss it kinda thing, description of dissociation, if that's not ptsd idk what is, inference type of thing. there's a war and they're 21, it's 3am and I just need to post this this gdi, it's towards the end, kind of? it's more of an introspective kinda thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penowl/pseuds/penowl
Summary: averted vision (n.) - "viewing an object by looking slightly to its side. This technique can help you detect faint objects that are invisible when you stare directly at them."Remus loves the cottage at Godric's Hollow, nearly more than anything (or anyone) else.A collection of domestic moments with the Marauders, from Remus's perspective.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: astronomy lessons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788310
Kudos: 28





	averted vision

Remus loved James and Lily’s cottage in Godric's Hollow. He secretly thought of it as his second real home (Hogwarts being the first), he was there so often.

*

He loved the early mornings. When Lily greeted him first with a quiet question about their long friendship before handing him a warm mug of coffee, a small relieved smile on her tired face. They would chat comfortably until James came stumbling down the stairs without his glasses and hair mussed impressively (surprisingly incapable of speech in the morning). One memorable morning, Remus had witnessed him pour coffee into a chipped bowl because his usual mug was nowhere to be found. On another, Lily had only just managed to prevent him from drinking straight from the pot.

Occasionally, Sirius would also emerge from the battered green couch with great reluctance, grumbling eloquent phrases such as 'loud bastards ringing the doorbell' or 'hiding the fucking tea are we?” in his gravelly voice. Apparently blind to the stash of tea Lily and James kept just for him in the upper left cupboard, very much in plain view. Peter would arrive after everyone was properly caffeinated (wise lad), with freshly baked bread in tow, flushed cheeks, and too many layers that always got tangled in his arms somehow when attempting to shed them until James went to tug them off.

Breakfast at the cottage usually involved Sirius instructing Peter on the correct way of frying eggs and sausages (which somehow required extremely precise timing and copious amounts of pepper), with James slicing up the still-warm bread and Lily rummaging in the fridge for that specific brand of blackberry jam that she kept on hand, just for Remus. As for Remus, he was content to observe, still sipping at his now cold coffee, hoping to imprint every detail in his brain, lest he forget. Sirius always insisted he was just lazy in the morning. Remus never bothered to correct him.

*

He loved the afternoons. When James and Sirius would argue and argue about whether the day should be spent in Diagon Alley or Muggle London while Lily, Remus, and Peter watched in bemusement.

Sirius would almost always win because really James, we’ve been there loads of times, and the Muggles have these places called _‘you-z-ums’_ that sound far more interesting and might actually fill up that big empty head of yours for once, and then James would sputter indignantly that always made Lily laugh. If Lily felt particularly sorry for him, she’d grab James’s hand with a beseeching look until he melted and just like that, they headed off in search of some new adventure. Together.

They would usually end up traipsing through Trafalgar Square or Piccadilly Circus or some other loud, bustling place. Discovering inviting book shops (where Remus’s legs always seemed to have a mind of their own), dodgy record stores (in Lily’s mind, the dodgier the better), and giant concrete towers filled to the brim with expensive clothes (James found a horrendous amount of amusement in forcing them all in silly outfits that they refused to buy). Peter seemed content anywhere they went, perking up cheerily whenever they made sure he hadn't fallen too far behind.

James knew Sirius’s boyish fascination with Muggle history and always made sure they had time to pop into the National Gallery towards the end, their earlier debate long forgotten. Sirius asked them all once, while standing in front of a beautiful painting of a very naked man (holding a spear and his bottom on display) why their own world didn’t have as much of an appreciation for such things and James (after some snickering on his part and more than a little embarrassment on Sirius’s) said he figured that everyone thought for so long that magic was creative and special enough to stick with that they never thought to do anything else. Peter suggested that perhaps there wasn’t anything _worth_ painting about, at least not until now. Lily pointed out later that magic _did_ lead to all those other things, it just looked a little different, with music and books and such. Sirius said it was a damn shame that art hadn’t survived, peering over Remus’s shoulder disinterestedly at whatever book he had stuck his nose in that day. It shouldn’t have been a very monumental conversation, but it had stayed with Remus all the same (until Remus got Sirius an easel and paints with Lily’s help for Christmas and Sirius quite memorably tackled him to the floor in a delighted shout).

*

He loved the evenings. When everyone was too sore to move and leaned against each other on the Underground, supporting their combined, weary weight.

Remus could always count on Sirius’s arm slung heavily across his shoulders, Lily’s fingers intertwined with his, James’s left sneaker wedged between his faded penny loafers, Peter anxiously grasping his jumper sleeve. They would tiredly collapse onto any and all available surfaces in the living room as soon as they got home, firewhiskey in hand, and then they would finally discuss the war and snatches of rumors and news of the occasional deaths of people they knew.

As the hours dragged on, Lily would curl up into James’s side. Peter would always try and change the subject when it got too much, fear starkly written on his face. Sirius would end up pacing the length of the living room, thrumming with energy, before sitting on the floor between Remus’s legs. Pressing his face against Remus’s knee, arms crossed tightly. Remus’s hand would stroke his dark head, trying not to think very hard about what _might_ and what _could_ happen. The two of them would stay like that for hours, even after the conversation gave way to somber silence, and Peter had long since left amidst a chorus of ‘good nights’ and ‘stay safes’, and James had put Lily to bed after she nodded off on his shoulder. James would then set about making a pan of hot chocolate for the three of them, an unnaturally tense set to his shoulders. If Sirius had still not moved, Remus and James would softly discuss politics or Quidditch or Hogwarts while he listened, mug untouched on the ground. Safe topics. Most of the time it didn’t work.

Sirius would finally get up only to visit the loo, still silent. James always took that as his cue to corner Remus in the kitchen as they cleaned up, whispering at him to just _talk_ to Sirius because mate, _c’mon,_ you two aren’t exactly _subtle,_ I _promise_ that’s what has him occupied lately, even Lily agrees, and Remus would go very pale and very sweaty at the idea. He’d stutter something about how he was working on it, truly, and James would make a soft noise of disbelief, wearing an expression that was somehow gently exasperated and earnest and sad, all at the same time.

The sight of it usually made Remus start washing all the other dishes leftover from the morning, trying to disguise the shaking of his hands in the boiling, sudsy water. The thought of losing _them,_ losing _Sirius Black_ …he couldn't stand the thought. Couldn't live with it. He’d be barely aware of James shutting the tap and setting aside the dishrag before wrapping him in a tight hug, murmuring insistent words into his shoulder which Remus never quite fully heard but understood all the same. Sirius somehow always magically appeared after they had both collected themselves, and then more hugs were exchanged before Sirius and Remus Apparated away.

Not home, but away.

*

He did not love his flat. It was always empty, and quiet, and alien. And _frightening._

Remus would lie on his bed, trying not to imagine the worst in the closeness of the dark but forever failing. Stricken with thousands of terrible premonitions, of Death Eaters arriving in the dead of night and surrounding his bed, torturing him awake, or killing him, or _worst of all_...casting the Imperius curse on him during a full moon...unleashing the evil beast inside him on his friends, on his _family..._

It never took him long to get up and turn on all the lights in his apartment, before rushing to the toilet, his stomach rejecting dinner.

*

Sirius knew, somehow. He always found him, _somehow._

Trembling on the cold floor in his fucking loo, unaware of how long he had been crouched there, wand clenched tight in his fist.

*

He was always able to tell it was Sirius, _really Sirius,_ those nights. Without having to ask.

It was the way he would carefully set Remus’s wand on the edge of the sink counter before smoothing out Remus’s shaking fingers, one by one, until the red lines in his palms were revealed, pressing his mouth to each cut his fingernails had made. As if Sirius had all the time in the world. Like he was saying they had all the time in the world. The thought would make Remus sob like his heart was shattering into shards of glass (sometimes he thought it was).

And as he buried his face in Sirius’s chest, gripping that leather jacket that smelled so much like the both of them sometimes (and Sirius gripping back just as hard), he could tell that Sirius was crying, too. He could tell that he was just as terrified of being left alone as he was, of what the future could bring.

Remus knew, in those moments, that he loved Sirius, really loved him, loved him more than he loved books and coffee and Christmas and rain.

Even more than the cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> *evil laughter*
> 
> just kidding it made me sad. comment if it made you sad! it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better. a LOT


End file.
